


The Rending Knife

by wanderingeyre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Canon-typical peril, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingeyre/pseuds/wanderingeyre
Summary: After countless missions, they now cover each other’s backs, share a mutual respect for each other’s abilities, and are reluctant friends. If Draco sometimes lays alone at night, hands skimming down his body imagining they were Harry’s, that is between him and the walls of his flat.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 336
Collections: HP Suds Fest 2020





	The Rending Knife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tasteofshapes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteofshapes/gifts).



> This fic is part of the HP SudsFest 2020. The wonderful prompt was from tasteofshapes.
> 
> Prompt: Drarry are Auror partners. Draco jumps in front of Harry during a duel and takes a Curse meant for him. Draco walks away from it without any obvious issues. It's only when Harry hears Draco's little sounds of pain in the showers later that he realises that Draco's isn't alright.

It took two years after being paired together as new Aurors, but Harry and Draco have come to an understanding in their partnership. The Ministry thought it a brilliant idea to pair the Saviour of the Wizarding World with the son of one of the families that was almost its downfall. After countless missions, they now cover each other’s backs, share a mutual respect for each other’s abilities, and are reluctant friends. If Draco sometimes lays alone at night, hands skimming down his body imagining they were Harry’s, that is between him and the walls of his flat.

It’s close enough to the end of the war that there are still pockets of dark wizards, hunched and waiting for a Dark Lord that will never reappear, causing occasional havoc. Draco admits that he and Potter make an excellent team in the field. Each apprehension they perform is another tick on the score he is keeping. It’s never enough to make up for the pain Draco had caused—it will never be enough—but it is the only thing he knows to do. The least he can do was right some of the damage his family has done and keep Potter safe. Draco has always known some people held more worth than others, but he had no idea he would be so far down the queue.

Potter is sitting in their small office in the Ministry building when the memo flies through the door, zooming over Draco’s head as he places a cup of tea in front of Potter and eases himself into his own chair, his own tea cupped between his palms. Potter snatches the memo out of the air, his dark fingers quick and delicate enough to catch it without damaging it. Potter is careful with how he touches things, intentional with his gentleness or pressure when it’s needed. It was one of the first things Draco noticed about him after being paired during training. His next revelation was that Potter almost never touched Draco, as if touching him would burn him. Draco tries not to dwell on that truth and pushes the reminder away that for all the respect and almost friendship, Harry would choose to let him loose if he could.

Potter sips the tea before opening the memo, smiling in greeting. “Morning. Thanks for the tea.”

Draco nods and sips his own tea silently, watching Potter. They’ve both changed since the war, grown up faster than they should’ve. Potter’s shoulders are broader than they were, his body is no longer lanky but lithe muscle. His dark hair falls in tidier waves than it used to and Draco’s hand clenches. It isn’t lost on Draco that he is light and golden, like a ghost, and Potter is dark and vibrant with life. Sometimes, Draco thinks the only thing keeping him grounded is the time he spends with Potter. 

Potter opens the memo and raises his eyebrows a bit before handing it over to Draco. Draco scans the paper, pulling the details he needs and rolls them around his head. There’s a suspected dark wizard holed up in a bookstore in Bath, causing some problems for the Muggles in the area near the shop. It’s not a high risk mission and something they should be able to take care of before the end of the day. 

Draco is relieved at the easier assignment. They’d just returned from a month-long overseas operation that involved multiple teams, and Draco is glad to be back to working with just the two of them, as if they really are friends. When they work alone he doesn’t have to contend with the sideways glances and snide remarks from other teams that make Potter’s expression go stiff and make Draco’s insides like stone. 

\---

The bookshop is on the corner of the main thoroughfare in Bath. The front of the shop is filled with small, black paned windows that fill the front of the building. Through the windows, Draco can see old books in piles, a mixture of old tattered covers of cloth, faded paper, and new hardbacks in glossy and matte. It’s the kind of place you could get lost in for an afternoon, discovering hidden treasures and stories to take home.

Draco looks over at Potter. “Would you like to go first or shall I?”

Potter smiles at him, sly and full of good humor, and Draco’s stomach swoops down at having that look leveled directly at him. “I went first last time and paid for it. I think it’s your turn.”

Draco can’t help but smile back. “It’s a good thing you ducked quickly.”

“It’s an even better thing that you took care of the situation before it knocked us both on our asses.”

Draco basks in the praise for a beat, then says, “Let’s go then.”

Draco puts one hand on his wand tucked inside his fitted Auror’s cloak and reaches out with the other hand to open the door slowly, knowing Potter’s wand is out and he’s checking to see if the shop is warded. 

“Seems clear,” Potter’s voice is low and reaches Draco’s ears as he pushes into the front room of the shop. 

The shop smells of old paper and dust and Draco can’t help but inhale the scent. It reminds him of long nights spent in the library at Hogwarts and, later, of long nights in the library at the Ministry, doing research with Potter as they prepared for an assignment or worked out a mystery. Potter’s eyes always look especially nice in the candlelight, poring over a book and Draco has to shake the memory out of his head. Now is not the time for daydreaming. That will get them both killed. 

Potter turns and mutters a spell under his breath, locking the door and flipping over the sign on the door so it will read _Closed_ to any passersby. 

Draco takes out his wand and nods to the right. Potter nods and goes left. Draco’s boots are well worn leather and make no sounds as he creeps along the perimeter of the shop. Potter meets up with him by a door along the back wall that says _Employees Only_. They share a look, nod, and Draco opens the door quickly and sweeps inside. 

Against the wall, there’s someone tied on the floor, a Muggle by the look of her clothes. Standing with her back to them is a tall, lanky witch, clad in robes that have seen better days. 

“Turn around slowly. This doesn’t have to get messy.” Potter’s wand is pointed at the witch with a steady hand.

“We just came here to talk,” Draco adds even though he knows they’ll be taking her in for kidnapping. Better to keep things calm.

Potter takes a step forward as the witch turns and steps back, raising her wand. She smiles, wide and with menace. “It’s either a very slow day at the Ministry or they must really think I’m something to send the Saviour and the Traitor after me. I must admit, I’m a bit flattered.”

“We need to ask you some questions,” Draco asserts, ignoring the witch’s use of the nicknames he hates so much. 

“I didn’t hurt her,” the witch waves to the woman on the floor, who is unconscious. “I only needed a little blood for a spell and she came into the shop easy as you please. She won’t even remember being here when she wakes up.”

“You know it’s illegal to practice magic on Muggles.” Potter is using his calm voice, the one he tempers to sound as unthreatening as possible, the kind of voice you use on crying children. 

Draco knows it would be easier just to stupefy her and move on, but they need to know if she is working alone. If she has accomplices, this job will be more complicated. 

In hindsight, Draco should have expected it, should have been better prepared. Potter takes a step closer to the woman slumped against the wall. Draco moves closer to the witch. Potter shifts his eyes for a second, and that is when she strikes. Draco sees her intent and her intake of breath and he surges forward, praying he’s not too late.

“Discindere Cultro!” the witch yells.

Draco’s spell is a fraction after hers, a fraction that makes all the difference. “Stupefy.”

He is fast enough to get between Potter and the spell, and for that, Draco is grateful. Potter has his own scars and wounds, he doesn’t need more. Draco deserves whatever punishment he receives, because he never paid for his crimes during the war. Draco feels the pain in his side, feels his flesh tear, but it’s not the worst pain he’s felt and he clenches his jaw in silence.

“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy. You all right?”

Potter sweeps up the witch’s wand and is beside Draco in two long legged strides. Draco hisses between his teeth as the pain digs into him. “I’ll be fine. Let’s get this cleaned up. You take care of the Muggle and I’ll check upstairs.”

Potter nods and goes to untie the Muggle and alter her memory a bit. Draco goes up the stairs, making an effort to walk normally until he gets to the top of the stairs. He presses a hand to his side, and the pain causes black spots to swirl in his vision. He draws in a breath and waves his wand in a simple healing spell. The bleeding slows to a gentle seeping, but the pain is still there, deep and sharp. Normally, the rending curse would have done a small amount of damage, but Draco can feel one of his old Sectumsempra scars open and aching. He doesn’t want to take the time to fix himself up here, doesn’t want Potter to know what that cost him. Draco takes one more breath, gathering his energy, and walks through the two rooms that are above the bookshop. 

One room has an old mattress with a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. The other room is filled with paper, a cauldron, and potions ingredients. Finding nothing, Draco goes downstairs. The Muggle is gone and Potter is kneeling by the witch, binding her for transport. 

“Nothing upstairs except some potion making things. We’ll need a cleanup crew after we leave to make sure nothing is dangerous.”

Potter nods. “I’m done here.” He rises to his feet and places a hand on Draco’s arm. 

Draco can’t help the small movement he makes as he leans into the contact. _When was the last time someone touched him?_ He doesn’t remember and he has to force himself to swallow past that knowledge.

“Thanks for covering my back.” Potter’s hand squeezes Draco’s arm before he releases it, and Draco wants to weep at the loss.

“That’s what partners are for.” Draco doesn’t know what hurts worse, the loss of contact with Potter or the burning in his side. He breathes through the pain of both and schools his facial features.

Potter smiles at him. “Let’s get this done, then I’m buying the two of us drinks.”

They apparate out of the shop and back into a secure landing room in the Auror area of the Ministry. It’s technically not inside the Ministry walls, which is why they can Apparate to it. It’s connected to the Ministry building by a series of tunnels and passageways that are a closely held secret. A clerk is sitting behind a desk, the only furniture in the room. 

“Prisoner for questioning in case number 36475,” Potter tells the clerk. “We’ll need to send a cleanup crew to the address in the file.”

The clerk, a young witch with short black hair, makes some notes on the papers in front of her and touches her wand to a bowl on her desk. A paper bird flaps up from the bowl and flies through the hallway behind her. 

“Please wait while the transfer comes.”

Draco collapses heavily onto one of the benches along the wall, cutting off the swift intake of breath the pain along his side causes.

Potter’s eyes dart to him and he sits carefully beside Draco. “Are you all right, mate? That curse looked nasty.”

“Just a scratch.”

“Perhaps you should get it checked out.” Potter is sitting close to him, angled towards Draco with their knees touching, and Draco presses his knee to Potter’s. Potter’s eyes are bright in the harsh light of the waiting area and full of concern. Draco blinks and looks away from them, afraid to reveal the wave of longing rising in him.

“I’ll do a little first aid once we get this taken care of. It’s fine.” Draco is lying. The pain is getting worse and he can feel the dampness of blood on his shirt underneath his vest and cloak. 

A wizard comes down the hall in the grey robes of prison transport. “This the prisoner?”

“Yes, sir.” Draco stands.

The clerk hands over the paperwork and the wizard takes the unconscious and levitating witch into custody. 

Potter claps Draco on the shoulder and Draco does his best not to wince. “Let’s get the paperwork out of the way and get out of here.”

“Thank you, Aurors Potter and Malfoy. Please submit your paperwork in a timely manner,” the clerk reminds them.

Potter smiles that charming smile he has that Draco knows is mostly show. “Of course. Paperwork is of the utmost importance.” 

Draco turns his back to the clerk to face Potter and rolls his eyes. Potter’s smile hitches up, morphing into something real as he winks at Draco, and Draco has to suppress the chuckle that bubbles up. He follows in Potter’s wake as the other man opens a closed door on the wall behind the desk. The door leads to a tiny closet, barely big enough for two people. As soon as the door closes, they are enveloped in darkness. Potter is chest to chest with Draco, and Draco’s entire front flares to life at the contact. Potter reaches over their heads to pull the chain attached to the single light bulb in the closet and there is a whooshing noise as they are pulled into the closet in the Auror offices. 

Potter steps out of the closet and Draco takes a breath before following him. The pain in his side is acute at this point and there is a pinching every time he draws in a breath. Draco refuses to crumble. He learned long ago that showing weakness brought nothing but more pain and sorrow, and he wants so much to not show failure to Potter. He’s worked too hard to get to where he is with Potter. He thinks they might be something like friends, and there are few people whose opinion Draco really cares about—he admits that Potter is one of them.

Potter is already halfway across the maze of desks and offices, and Draco forces his feet to move in the same direction, keeping his breathing even and deep. Potter is standing behind his desk in the small office they share when Draco pauses in the doorway. He places a hand on the door frame and breathes past the pain.

Potter looks up and his dark brows drop down. “I say, Malfoy, you look a little pale. Are you sure you don’t want me to take a look at…”

“No,” the word comes out harsher than Draco means it to. “I mean, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Potter pauses and looks at Draco. “I’ll take care of the paperwork. You go down to the showers. The steam and heat might help where you got hit.”

Draco nods. “Thanks.”

Draco escapes, grateful that Potter is taking over the tedium of paperwork. Draco doesn’t hate the minutiae of filling out reports, but he doesn’t think he could concentrate on it at the moment. He limps down to the showers, his side a bloom of fire. 

The showers on the Auror level are large and sparkling with grey and white tile. Off the main room there’s a sauna, showers, and soaking tubs. Draco heads to the showers and goes into the one on the far end. The door is mostly opaque glass and leads into a small room where Draco pulls off his cloak, hissing as the movements stretch the place where the curse hit him. He unbuttons his vest and it peels away, revealing a patch of sticky blood on his nice shirt. Draco removes the ruined shirt, then reaches over to start the shower before inspecting the damage on his side.

The curse didn’t just open up one of his old Sectumsempra scars, it’s split the skin along the scar line. The wound isn’t bleeding anymore, but it burns and the scar tissue is raw and angry. A bruise is creeping along his side and Draco leans against the wall to catch his breath. He’s had worse injuries—his job is dangerous—but these scars hold so much memory and pain that the weight of them seems to be pressing into him more than the pain of the curse that caught him this morning.

Draco runs his fingers over the scars and presses into the one that is now open, letting the intensity of the pain ground him. Draco can still see Potter's face when he gave him these scars, still see the heat of the anger and hate on Potter’s face. Draco knows he deserves every one of these scars. They are a reminder of mistakes he’s made—mistakes that he should never be allowed to forget lest he make them again or start to think he deserves anything more than what his life holds. He’s thankful for the tentative friendship with Potter, for the occasional visits he spends with his mother, and for his empty, lonely flat.

Draco steps into the water and lets the heat of it wash away everything. He tries to empty his mind of all the dark thoughts and places both palms on the cool tiles of the shower. The pain in his side is still there, but the contact with the tile keeps him from shaking. Draco stands there, breathing evenly and wishing for things he’ll never have.

\---

Harry finishes up the paperwork. It’s not much for an operation this small, but he does have to add an extra bit at the end since Malfoy was wounded. Harry pauses in his writing, a small twist of worry over his partner threading through him. 

When they were first paired together, Harry had been hesitant, resentful on the worst days, but over the last two years, Harry had come to respect Malfoy. He is a talented wizard whose quick thinking has saved Harry on more than one occasion. Like today. Malfoy took the curse that was meant for Harry without hesitation. The worry for Malfoy pushes at him again, and Harry hurries to finish so he can go check on his partner.

Harry signs the report by habit, barely paying attention to what he’s doing, the need to see Malfoy creeping in, like a wave lapping at shore, slow and eroding. He smiles a little at the presence of his concern. A few years ago he would have avoided Malfoy at all costs. Harry spoke up at Malfoy’s trial because it had been the right thing to do and Malfoy deserved a chance to make different choices. They’d all been kids in an adult’s war, used in various ways by the people around them, even those that loved them. All of them deserved a chance to break free from that and find what new beginning they could after the war. Even Malfoy. Especially Malfoy.

Unfortunately for both himself and Malfoy, they’d chosen a profession that, while it helped with some of the guilt, put them in the line of fire more often than naught. Harry’s gut twisted and he stood, sending off the paperwork he’d just finished with a wave of his wand. Malfoy still wasn’t back and the worry in his gut was growing. Malfoy had been stiff and a little more pale than usual when they’d returned. Harry trails his fingers over the top of Malfoy’s desk and walks through the warren of offices and cubicles.

The shower room is steamy and damp. The doors to all the shower rooms are open except for the last one. The showers were made so that you could close up each individual shower, run the water on hot and have a sauna instead of a shower if needed. 

The mental image of Malfoy, naked and glistening in the water, assaults Harry and he has to swallow past the rise of desire. The other man has never given any indication that he would welcome those kinds of thoughts from Harry. Harry does his best to crush them beneath the heel of his boots as he walks, but the spectre lingers behind his eyes and his hand shakes as he knocks on the shower door.

“Malfoy, are you all right?”

There is silence for a moment, then Malfoy’s voice, small and muffled through the door reaches Harry. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

The worry that had been chasing Harry catches up to him, wraps long claws around his throat. “I’m coming in.”

Harry opens the door slowly—giving Malfoy the chance to do what, Harry doesn’t know—and what he sees shifts the floor under his feet.

Draco is sitting on the bench to the right of the water’s spray, naked and gleaming, so much better than anything Harry could have imagined, but Malfoy’s posture is wrong. There are long jagged scars that run in white lines over Malfoy’s torso, scars that Harry knows he caused all those years ago. The sight of them makes Harry sick. Malfoy is pale and gasping on the bench, a red line runs down the length of one of the larger ropey scars on his side. Malfoy makes a small sound of distress.

Harry is beside the other man and on his knees without realizing he’s moved. “Malfoy,” Harry cups the side of Draco’s face. “Draco, why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco opens his eyes, the ice grey of them dulled with pain. “I didn’t want you to worry and I didn’t think it was so bad, but it opened one of my scars.” Draco huffs out a breath. “I can’t see it well enough to heal it.”

All Aurors are taught basic healing spells—they have to have them handy in their line of work— and they have saved Harry and Draco on more than one occasion.

Harry runs his hand down Draco’s arm. “I’m going to heal this and then you and I are going to have a nice long chat about keeping things like this from your partner.” Draco nods, pain filled eyes tracking Harry’s movements. Harry reaches behind Draco and turns off the shower.

Harry pulls his wand from the holster on his leg and shifts so he can get a better look at the injury. He does his level best to not look at Draco’s naked body, but his eyes do flick down of their own accord before settling to the task at hand. Harry shuffles that brief glance into a small hiding place for later when he’s alone.

The wound isn’t bleeding much, a small drip on the tiles below Draco’s side, but the reopened scar is rough and there is already bruising along the edges. Harry knows that some curses cause damage deep in the tissue and, from the pain Draco is in, Harry thinks this curse is still slicing it’s way, slowly. It will keep doing so until the wound is closed. Harry lifts Draco’s arm with his left hand, fingers threading through Draco’s.

“I’m going to do a nice and easy cleansing spell in case there are any hidden spells underneath the obvious that are causing problems.” Draco’s breath is slow and steady, something Harry knows he is doing on purpose to stay calm. “Draco, are you with me?”

Draco nods, the corners of his lips turning up. “I like it when you say my name, Harry.”

The words punch the air out of Harry’s lungs. “Christ, Draco. Stop distracting me.” Harry’s tone is scolding, but an answering smile plays over his face.

Harry whispers the spell, waving his wand down the length of the wound. Draco’s fingers tighten on Harry’s hand, but the other man holds still. Sweat, both from the heat of the enclosed room and from being this close to something Harry has only imagined, breaks out over Harry’s forehead.

He reaches the end of the wound. “All right. This one’s going to hurt a bit more. Try not to move.”

Draco closes his eyes and nods. “Do it.”

Harry begins the knitting spell. Draco’s body tenses and he sucks in a breath, fingers clutching painfully to Harry. Harry is careful, knows that a badly knitted wound can be worse than having it fixed at all.

“I should have taken you to Mungo’s.”

“Didn’t want to travel,” Draco grits out through clenched teeth. He opens one eye and looks at Harry. “I knew you’d take care of me.”

Harry concentrates on what he is doing. It takes longer than he wants, but when he’s done, the Sectumsempra scar is closed, angry red and bruised, along Draco’s side. Harry’s knees are protesting from being on the hard tile for so long and the dampness has seeped through his trousers, but he can't bring himself to move yet.

“We should clean the blood off you. You’ll feel better.” Now that he has fixed Draco’s wounds, the reality of their situation is beginning to sink in. Harry has to push down the raw need that tightens his body. This is not the time to act on his very wayward feelings for his partner. He does not think any overtures in that direction will be welcomed, especially today when Draco had been harmed because Harry attacked him so long ago.

“I don’t think I can move yet.” Draco’s words are almost a whisper.

They have an instant effect on Harry. Harry puts his wand away and cups the side of Draco’s face. “Let me take care of you. I’m your partner and I do owe you since this could have easily been me. As long as you’re okay with me staying.”

Draco reaches out a hand and weakly clutches some of the fabric of Harry's shirt. “Please stay.”

Harry’s heart stutters with the look on Draco’s face and Harry tries not to over think what he does next. 

“I’m going to take off my shirt so I’m not completely sopping before the end.” Harry is using a soft tone, afraid taking off parts of his clothing will cause Draco to bolt out of the shower. The idea is amusing to Harry, given that Draco is sitting in the shower naked as if they do this every day. 

Harry’s hand shakes a little as he removes his shirt and glasses but it’s steady when he reaches over Draco’s head and turns the shower back on. “I’m going to wash your hair first.”

Draco nods, his eyes tracking Harry’s every move, and Harry feels them like weights are pressing into his chest. Harry pulls the shower head out of the holder and sprays Draco with the water, careful to keep as much of it out of his face as possible. Harry runs his fingers over Draco’s hair to make sure that the water has dampened everywhere. The shower head goes back into the holder and Harry reaches for the shampoo.

The smell of lavender and citrus fills the humid space as Harry rubs the shampoo between his hands, then he reaches out to Draco’s scalp. Harry massages Draco’s head, and Draco leans into his touch. When Harry gets down to Draco’s neck, he massages the muscles there and a moan escapes Draco that goes straight to Harry’s cock. He had done so well, up until this point, trying to keep a level of separation between his desires and what he was doing, but the noises Draco is making cleave through Harry.

Draco sighs and Harry gulps past years of longing and rinses the soap out of Draco’s hair. There is a washcloth sitting next to Draco and Harry picks it up next.

“I’m just going to clean the blood off your side.”

Draco nods. His eyes are closed now and his head is thrown back against the tile of the shower. 

The only soap in the shower is the shampoo, so Harry spreads more of that on the washcloth, then kneels again between Draco’s feet. Harry rubs small, light circles over Draco’s skin, careful of the bruising around the injury. Draco shifts and opens his eyes, watching Harry with something in his gaze that burns through Harry like a storm. Harry feels like every inch of skin he cleans on Draco’s torso is unraveling his self control, pulling on threads Harry thought long tangled and out of sight. 

There’s a line of dried blood on Draco’s thigh where the wound had dripped down, and Harry moves his hand down, small circles cleaning and hands gentle. Harry is dangerously close to parts of Draco that he has only fantasized about, and he lets his eyes slide sideways. It’s a mistake. Draco is half hard and Harry sucks in a breath and shuts his own eyes.

Draco’s hand goes to his shoulder, his grip is firm, and the heat of his hand pushes Harry to the breaking point. 

“I’m sorry.” The words escape Harry before he knows they are leaving his lips.

“For what?”

Harry opens his eyes, meets the warm grey eyes boring holes into him, and traces his fingers over the scars on Draco’s stomach. “For these. For everything.”

A harsh laugh escapes Draco, and Harry jerks at the sound. “Fuck Harry, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, but we’ve moved past all that. Or I thought we had. The real question is, why are you doing this? Why are you here? Why do you care?” Draco whispers the last question and his hand tightens where it still grips Harry’s shoulder.

Harry nods, his eyes holding Draco’s gaze. There are so many things he could say. “You deserve to know that someone cares about you, that you are worthy of affection, that you deserve to be loved.”

Draco’s intake of breath is swift. “Do you care about me, Harry?”

Harry can’t look away from Draco. He nods.

Draco’s hand moves from Harry’s shoulder, slides over his neck, and cups Harry’s face. Draco runs a thumb over Harry’s cheekbone, and Harry leans into the touch like a starved man because he is, has been for years. There is no way, after all this time, that Harry could ever resist the gravitational pull of the man in front of him.

Draco leans forward, slowly like he’s giving Harry time to change his mind, which really is laughable, and Harry closes the gap, moving faster than Draco. The press of their lips is chaste, and Harry pulls back enough to see Draco’s face, eyes wide and searching, before Harry palms the back of Draco’s head and drags him back down for another kiss.

This one is the opposite of the first. Harry presses into the seam of Draco’s mouth, tasting him and sucking in Draco’s bottom lip. Draco makes a noise in the back of his throat that undoes Harry, and Harry wraps his free hand around Draco’s thigh, sliding his hand up firmly. Draco’s hands are all over Harry, leaving burning and desire in their wake. Harry trails open mouthed kisses over Draco’s neck and Draco tips his head to give Harry more access. 

Harry slows his descent as his lips touch the top of the first scar that patterns Draco’s chest, a scar he caused. Harry’s heart constricts.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry presses gentle kisses down the length of the scar, moving onto the one that is still red and bruised from the events of the day. 

Draco presses his thumb and finger into Harry’s chin and makes Harry lift his face. “None of that now.”

Harry nods, unwilling to look away from Draco’s eyes. Harry knows what he wants, but he’s pushed those desires so far down, the hope that they might be something he could actually have, actually hold in the palm of his hand, makes Harry lightheaded.

“You want to ask me something.”

It doesn’t occur to Harry to wonder how Draco knows he has a question on the tip of his tongue. They’ve spent too much time together. They know each other so well that these past two years have increasingly been torture.

Harry’s eyes sweep down and he allows himself to look at Draco, thick and hard and so close. Harry slides his hand up farther, moving slow so Draco has all the time to say no, to back away, to leave Harry aching. Draco doesn’t move. He swallows visibly and keeps his eyes on Harry.

Harry takes Draco’s cock in his hand and gives the other man a gentle squeeze. Draco does twitch then, a sigh escaping from between his lips. 

“I want to wrap my mouth around you and suck you until you come. Can I do that?” Harry is breathless by the time he gets to the end of his question.

Draco licks his lips, his pupils wide as he nods. “Yes, please, Harry.”

In the end, that’s what rips through Harry like fire, the way Draco says his name, part plea, part prayer, and Harry is only too happy to provide relief and answers. Harry braces both of his hands on Draco’s thighs and sucks down Draco’s cock until it bumps against the back of Harry’s throat. Draco hisses and threads a hand through Harry’s hair, yanking it as Harry pulls his head back, sucking in, before plunging back down. 

The noises Draco is making go straight to Harry’s own aching cock. If he lasts through this, it will be a miracle. Harry moves with strong, slow strokes, adding his hand to his mouth to give Draco more pressure. Draco squirms beneath him and lifts one leg so that his heel is resting on the tiled bench. It gives Draco more leverage to thrust up into Harry’s mouth. Harry smiles around the cock in his mouth and picks up the pace, knowing neither one of them is going to last much longer.

Harry uses his free hand to unbutton his trousers and wraps his own hand around himself, moving his hand in tandem with his mouth on Draco. The sensation is almost too much and he loses his rhythm briefly, before picking the pace back up. When Draco is muttering his name like a litany and Harry can feel his own orgasm building, Harry slides his hand from Draco’s cock and gently presses his thumb against the pucker of Draco’s hole. Draco comes with a cry and a rush of heat that Harry is only too happy to swallow down. Harry follows Draco moments later, spending himself on the tiles between his knees. 

Harry slips off of Draco’s cock and looks up at the other man with a satisfied grin. 

Draco’s eyes are soft and his skin is beautifully flushed and Harry can’t help but feel pride that he made Draco look that wrecked. Harry has never seen anything so wonderful in his life.

Draco cups Harry’s face in his hands, drops his leg, leans forward, and pulls Harry into a long, lazy kiss. “You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I love you,” he murmurs against Harry’s lips.

Harry can see the moment Draco realizes what he’s said, sees the tightness that appears around Draco’s mouth and eyes as the other man starts to pull away. 

Harry smiles, wide and brilliant at Draco and says, “I’m glad because I’m really tired of having unrequited feelings for you, you prat.”

Draco huffs out a breath. “Of all the ways I imagined this, I never thought to have you kneeling in front of me in the shower and me with my mouth running.” Draco looks down at Harry’s undone trousers. “Looks like we both could use a bit of a wash now. Stand up and take off your trousers.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at Draco. “So you think because I have a soft spot for you, you can order me about.”

Draco smirks and stands, hauling Harry to his feet. “I do, actually.” Draco grabs the waist of Harry’s trousers and pulls them down. Harry steps out of his trousers, keeping his eyes on Draco. Harry can’t resist pulling Draco to him, their naked bodies flush and pressing into each other greedily. Harry licks into Draco’s mouth.

Draco breaks the kiss and smiles at Harry. “You keep doing that, and we’ll never get out of this shower.”

Harry winks at Draco, something warm and hopeful unfurling in his chest. “That doesn’t sound all that bad.” Harry reaches behind Draco and turns the water back on. “I meant what I said earlier. You deserve to be happy, Draco.”

Draco swallows and pulls Harry under the water with him. “You deserve to be happy too, you know.”

“Will you go out with me, on a proper date?” Harry asks, a sliver of fear pricking him.

Draco laughs, warm and gentle. “You look like I’m going to say no. Of course I’ll go on a date with you. I’m glad you finally asked.” 

Draco kisses Harry as the water runs over them and it feels like a new beginning.

  
  
  



End file.
